A Man's Measure
by Sentimental Star
Summary: You can determine the measure of a man by observing how he treats his lessers, except that, to Arthur, Merlin has (almost) never been his lesser, and Merlin himself (almost) never saw them as anything other than equals. As their destinies steadily intertwine, both young men realize it is more than just fate that ties them together…UPDATED! (Friendshipfic. Bromance. Multi-Chapter.)
1. Initiation

_**Disclaimer:**_ I own nothing in this marvelous universe, that's all BBC property.

_**Author's Note:**_ Well, my first foray into the world of _BBC Merlin_ fan fiction. This series will mostly consist of standalone stories, each tying back to the theme that how Arthur treats Merlin (and, conversely, how Merlin treats Arthur) leads to both their one-of-a-kind friendship and the changes their interactions wrought on who they each become. Please enjoy!

_**Rating:**_ T

_**Summary:**_You can determine the measure of a man by observing how he treats his lessers, except that, to Arthur, Merlin has (almost) never been his lesser, and Merlin himself (almost) never saw them as anything other than equals. As their destinies steadily intertwine, both young men realize it is more than just fate that ties them together…(Friendshipfic and Bromance. Multi-Chapter.)

"_**Speech"**_

_**Personal Thoughts/Memories (Italics)**_

_.:A Man's Measure:._

_By Sentimental Star_

**I: Initiation**

It began with, of all things, an apple.

(Actually, for accuracy's sake, it began with Merlin's first bitterly cold winter in Camelot and said warlock's irritating tendency—according to Arthur—to fall ill at the most inconvenient of times.)

Having just returned to Arthur from three weeks' illness-induced bed rest, Merlin found himself almost immediately relieved of the Crown Prince's breakfast platter by said already-dressed Crown Prince.

"Hungry, are we?" Merlin managed bemusedly, wracking his mind for any situations similar to this in his nine months of service.

(He also refrained from releasing the sigh of relief trying to bubble past his lips. That platter weighed _far_ too much.)

"Starving," Arthur replied blithely, setting it on his table and promptly starting to devour it.

"I doubt you even know the meaning of the word," Merlin muttered under his breath—because princes did not have to worry about bandits like Kanen on a yearly basis.

Any breakfast sounds ceased.

Curiously, Merlin glanced over at the prince from where he had begun making the older boy's bed.

Too-blue eyes focused in on Merlin, wrinkled brow and displeased pout prominent.

"I'm not the idiot here, _Mer_lin. Of course I do!"

Merlin rolled his eyes, "Forgive me my presumptions, Your Highness, but you do not. Not truly."

The pout worked its way into a full-blown frown. "Stoke the fire, Merlin," spoken in a tone that brooked no argument.

Merlin sighed, nonetheless moving in that direction, "As you command, I obey."

"Only you could make that sound so sarcastic. I should have your head for that."

"That's a little extreme, don't you think?"

"Well, I can't very well put you in the pillory, now can I? You'd freeze to death."

"Isn't that the same outcome as beheading me?"

Arthur huffed, and to a bemused Merlin, it sounded suspiciously like a laugh, "Just build up the fire, Merlin, and stop your idiot jabbering."

"Yes, Sir."

It did not take long for Merlin, crouched in front of the fire and prodding the flames into a blaze, to become aware of a series of chills skittering up and down his spine. After a moment, an uneasy warlock realized that Arthur had, in fact, commenced staring at his back, completely disregarding his morning meal.

He started rather violently (and nearly knocked the poker stand over in the process), when Arthur broke the silence between them with an abrupt, "How often has Ealdor been raided, Merlin?"

Sighing, Merlin straightened, satisfied by the blaze of warmth at his front, and moved to empty the brazier of its contents, before realizing the soot would transfer to Arthur's sheets, and aborted the attempt, choosing instead to resume making the prince's bed. He tugged the coverlet straight and retorted in clipped tones, "Twice a year—once during the early spring, and once again just before the harvest. It's…difficult to find food sometimes, if we don't store enough of it."

"…I see."

Arthur's quiet response had Merlin quirking an impertinent eyebrow at his back, but when no follow-up remark came from the prince as he resumed eating, Merlin shrugged and completed his morning chores.

"Is that all, my Lord?" he asked, once finished.

Arthur only waved him off—rather distractedly—and stared contemplatively into the fire's flames.

Merlin huffed softly, unable to prevent a brief frown from flickering across his features. In the end, he decided to quickly duck into the corridor, lest Arthur come up with yet _another_ job for his servant to complete (it had happened before, more times than Merlin thought fair).

After all, what concern of _his_ was it whether Arthur wanted to share his burden?

IOIOIOIOIOI

As it turned out, that day Merlin learned he had a horrible tendency to underestimate Arthur.

In his mind, the older boy remained a Royal Prat, but moments existed when Arthur—like Merlin—surprised his coin's other half, and the apple that near-nailed Merlin's head upon entry into Arthur's rooms later that day did exactly that.

Luckily, luncheon was much lighter than breakfast and a quick wrist flick allowed Merlin to cleanly grab the fruit Arthur had lobbed at his head in mid-air.

After a moment of bewildered staring, Merlin finally rolled his eyes. This had happened before, far too many times. To be fair, however, Arthur usually only tossed a goblet or plate at him when in a fit of temper.

The smug grin adorning the prince's face seemed to contradict that fear.

"Knew you weren't as clumsy as you like to make me believe. What do you take me for?"

"An infuriating prat," Merlin returned dryly, making his way cautiously towards the prince's table, lest said prince decided to lob something else—namely something a great deal _heavier_—at his head.

When Arthur did nothing more than huff a laugh—an actual _laugh_—and seat himself there, Merlin felt brave enough to venture brazenly, "Target practice, my Liege? Surely there must be more effective ways of alleviating your boredom than attempting to assassinate your poor, unsuspecting manservant—_with an apple_, I might add."

"Ooh, big words, _Mer_lin! Are you certain you know what they mean?"

Unable to help himself, and a little startled by the warmth flooding his chest, Merlin barked out a short laugh.

Surely only the mixture of firelight and cold sunshine had tricked him into believing that Arthur's face appeared to glow at his sudden laughter.

"Your luncheon, your Prattiness," Merlin retorted warmly, sketching a mock-bow as he placed the platter on the table.

When he tried to hand over the apple, as well, Arthur's hands suddenly cupped around his own and stopped him.

"That's yours," Arthur countered shortly.

Merlin's eyes widened, his prince's name (funny, he had never really thought of Arthur as _his_ prince before) falling automatically from his lips, "Arthur…?"

Most masters did not treat their servants this way.

When a startled Arthur jerked his head up, Merlin belatedly realized that most _servants_ never addressed their _masters_ by their first name, either, least of all if that master was the _Crown Prince of Camelot_.

Before Merlin could force out a (likely botched) apology, Arthur roughly withdrew his hands and averted his eyes to the bowl in front of him, half-barking out, "Oh, stop gawping like an idiotic _fool_, _Mer_lin! I'm sure it's _bruised_, and _I'm_ certainly not eating it if it is. It would be a waste just to _throw it away-_"

But the apple wasn't bruised and, in fact, it looked to be one of the best of the lot that adorned Arthur's fruit bowl at the center of the table. Furthermore, Arthur's hands fidgeted uncomfortably in his lap and he made no move to eat his stew, for all the intensity of his gaze could have re-boiled it had he that power.

"…Is this because of what I told you this morning?" Merlin demanded, the corners of his lips turning down.

He certainly didn't want _pity_, if that were the case.

Arthur simply shifted in his seat, setting his jaw, "Not entirely," he muttered, a delicate pink hue adorning his cheeks.

Merlin blinked.

Oh.

As yet more color crept into the prince's cheeks, Merlin abruptly grinned.

_Oh_.

"You were _worried _about me," stated. With absolute conviction.

Arthur sputtered, appalled, jerking his head up, and cheeks awash with red, "I was _not_!"

Merlin laughed, feeling suddenly exceedingly happy, realizing for the first time that they _might just be able to do this_, "You were! You _absolutely were_! Oh, Arthur," and he liked the way that sounded, the way it _felt_ to be able to call the prince by his given name, "three weeks of illness are horrible, it's true, but it's not like I was _dying_."

Arthur's flinch at 'dying' did not go unnoticed.

"Certainly, it doesn't prevent me from _dressing_ you-"

"—I woke up early!"

"_Or_ carrying a platter-"

"—I was hungry!"

"And Gaius certainly wouldn't allow me to waste _away-_"

"—I told you, it's _bruised_—I'm not going to eat it! Besides, I'm not all that-"

"_You_ were _worried_," Merlin accused him merrily, chuckling softly at Arthur's expense.

With a quiet huff and cheeks ablaze, Arthur appeared to give up their argument as a lost cause and moved to grab his spoon.

Merlin, smug in his victory and near-drunk on the knowledge that somewhere beneath that prat-ish exterior, Arthur really _did_ care about his hapless manservant, daringly brushed his free hand gently against the other boy's arm, "Thank you, Arthur," he murmured, sincerely.

The touch was fleeting, but encouraging enough to allow Arthur to raise his head and shoot Merlin a disgruntled scowl, waving him off, "Dismissed."

Unable to quite bite back his grin, Merlin swept Arthur the first genuine bow he had ever given him and ducked out into the corridor.

If both boys went around that afternoon with bright smiles, Gaius might suspect and Uther puzzle, but no one else was the wiser.

_End Initiation_


	2. Implementation

_**Disclaimer:**_ I own nothing in this marvelous universe, that's all BBC property.

_**Author's Note:**_ ::rubs eyes:: Ohmigosh, this chapter went through _so_ many different revisions! Originally, I had intended it as a sort of tag, or coda, to episode 2x06, Part II (_Beauty and the Beast_), but as you'll see…this particular chapter sort of precedes it. Still set in Season 2, but takes place sometime not too long after _The Once and Future Queen_. Next chapter will be _Beauty and the Beast_, I hope! Please enjoy!

_**Reviewers:**_ All _14_ of you, thank you!

_**Rating:**_ T

_**Summary:**_You can determine the measure of a man by observing how he treats his lessers, except that, to Arthur, Merlin has (almost) never been his lesser, and Merlin himself (almost) never saw them as anything other than equals. As their destinies steadily intertwine, both young men realize it is more than just fate that ties them together…(Friendshipfic and Bromance. Multi-Chapter.)

"_**Speech"**_

_**Personal Thoughts/Memories (Italics)**_

_.:A Man's Measure:._

_By Sentimental Star_

**II: Implementation**

Cultivating a friendship with Arthur took time. Particularly because said prat did not make it terribly easy.

(Sometimes—but only _sometimes_—Merlin doubted Arthur cared at all, irregardless of how Gaius frowned and scolded, generally making his displeasure with both boys' reckless antics well known. Reckless antics that often resulted in one or the other of the two young men having to be patched up because all their focus in these situations had begun to shift to each other.)

IOIOIOI

"Rise and shine, your Highness!"

"_Mer_lin, I swear to the gods I _will_ behead you one day. _No one_ should be this chirper so ridiculously early in the morning!"

IOIOIOI

Uther had never raised Arthur with anything more than the rarest instances of physical affection, despite his very real love for his son. Whereas Hunith, who treasured Merlin above and beyond all else, had never hesitated to show it in any way she could.

Arthur therefore grew up knowing very little of how to express fondness in all its forms, while Merlin grew up knowing many and therefore found it perfectly acceptable to express his steadily growing affection for the git of a prince he served in all the ways he knew best.

IOIOIOI

"Pouting, your Prattiness? You _know_ your father wants you at the council meeting this morning."

"And _you're _supposed to be my horribly late manservant and therefore my excuse for missing it. Such impeccable timing, _Mer_lin. Dare I hope it becomes a habit?"

A laugh and a friendly swipe at Arthur's arm had the Crown Prince stiffening beneath his touch. Merlin could not quite conceal his frown.

"Arthur?"

"Just…warn me next time."

IOIOIOI

However, despite said prince's claims to the contrary, Merlin also knew Arthur. It took but a few awkward instances of brushing Arthur's arm, hand, or shoulder, only to have him tense at the unexpected contact, to realize that the older boy needed to ascribe some sort of purpose to such gestures of affection between them.

Merlin never satisfactorily decided whether anger or sorrow was the predominant emotion when he finally understood why:

"…I think I should find it just a little bit insulting, you know. After a year of dressing you and bathing you—under duress, by the way—and saving your royal arse, you've yet to stop flinching whenever I touch you unexpectedly. Even when _I_ know _you_ know I'm there."

The jacket Merlin helped Arthur slip into did very little to hide the faint pink flush of the prince's cheeks, "I'm a knight, Merlin, first and foremost. You should know by now how utterly idiotic it is to approach a knight from behind. And really, saving my arse? Who was it that defeated the afanc, hm? Or rode out to find the morteus flower? Oh, and let's not forget Kanen, yes?"

Merlin rolled his eyes, "Don't forget the dagger, your Royal Prattiness. Or the one who actually _drank_ the poison that necessitated the morteus flower. And I _did_ warn you about Cornelius Sigan."

Merlin's actual list, of course, was far more extensive, and it had fast become one of his dearest hopes to one day share it with Arthur. For all Arthur had won his regard, however, in many ways the older boy remained a prat, and furthermore, beholden to his father.

Death did not scare him, particularly—burning…that was another matter. Execution did not seem terribly appealing, either.

Until Merlin felt comfortable enough with Arthur (and the Cornelius Sigan incident remained fresh in his memory), that list would have to stay hidden.

Arthur simply rolled his own eyes, shrugging the jacket's brown collar up to conceal the flush of his cheeks. "I did not realize you were keeping count, _Mer_lin."

Any other day that would have the end of it; Arthur clung fiercely to what little privacy he could afford, as Merlin well-knew. Unfortunately, such zealous guardianship resulted in a reticence that the younger of the two often selfishly wished did not exist.

(Only to promptly realize with a pang that he was hardly any better.)

As he usually did, Merlin fell back on a cheeky retort: "Absolutely," he chirped, grinning broadly, "I deserve at least a knighthood for the Labyrinth of Gedref alone."

Arthur snorted softly, rubbing the bridge of his nose, "Yes…yes, I'd imagine so," he murmured.

Merlin's mouth drew itself into an "O."

"Arthur, I was _teasing_-" he began.

The sigh the older boy released had Merlin frowning, "And do you know how many have feared the stocks for less?"

Desperately trying to process the utterly unanticipated direction this conversation had taken, Merlin tried, would-be lightly, "The stocks? Ah, yes, such pleasant accommodations _they_ are-"

"_Mer_lin," Arthur interrupted, shaking his head.

Merlin, for once, stopped talking. Pressing his lips together uncertainly, he warily surveyed Arthur as the Crown Prince leaned against the wall next to one of his bedchamber's windows and quietly observed the bustling courtyard below.

"Had you been anyone else—at least, anyone else who was not a commoner—you would have been knighted long ago."

From the displeased set of Arthur's lips, Merlin knew the Crown Prince had more than a few disagreements with that particular law.

(He'd tried to overturn it for Lancelot, after all. Somehow, it was hardly less surprising that he might willingly do it for Merlin, too.)

"Arthur," Merlin replied cautiously, "I don't want a knighthood. I never did."

"But _you could have had it_, Merlin. Surely…surely you must see that? I am the Crown Prince. I am _going _to be King. For most people," Arthur shrugged uncomfortably, face and stance uneasy as he gazed at Merlin, "that is all they see. I could never trust that they wanted to know me for me, or if they simply planned to use me for leverage with my father." He smiled unsurely at Merlin's inelegant snort, "So I…never really looked. Never really even bothered to learn—they always came to me, because of what I could do for them."

"I have never wanted anything from you, Arthur," Merlin retorted stoutly. "At least, nothing you weren't already willing to give."

And oh, Arthur's _eyes_ when he said that. He had not meant to turn this into such a heart-to-heart, but that look—the fragile, shimmering hope he had steadily grown more aware of as the seasons progressed—_anything _was worth that.

"Really?"

So tentative, so bemused…Merlin's chest hurt to hear it.

"Well, a little thanks might be nice now and again-"

"_Mer_lin," amused this time, blue eyes alight with internal laughter. "I thought you only wanted what I was willing to give."

Merlin rolled his own, "Your pardon, my Liege, I must have been mistaken."

Arthur closed his mouth on a laugh, a brilliant smile curving up his lips.

Seriously, Merlin met his gaze, "Honestly, Arthur, all I want is a promise from you."

The older boy's eyes remained fond and bright, "And what might that be, _Mer_lin?"

"Be more careful. I know I can't stop you from defending Camelot and your people. I know you like to think you will be perfectly safe. But surely the whole situation with Cornelius Sigan must have shown you how unwise it is to rely on luck? You will be _our_ _King_, Arthur—please promise me you will hold to that. And you can't very well do that if you are dead."

Arthur pursed his lips, "Sometimes, Merlin…"

He trailed off, but said warlock did not need him to continue—they had, after all, participated in this discussion often enough:

"_Sometimes, Merlin…I don't want to say you are __wise__, but yes…that is what you are."_

"Will you promise me, Arthur?" Merlin requested instead.

Arthur huffed a small sigh and—bless his Royal Not-So-Prattiness—gave a single nod.

Merlin squeezed his arm, "Thank you."

The limb beneath his hand never so much as quivered.

_End Implementation_


	3. Evolution

_**Disclaimer:**_ I own nothing in this marvelous universe, it's all BBC property.

_**Author's Note:**_ As promised, my tag to Episode 2x06, Part 2, _Beauty and the Beast_ can be found below. A word of warning: there are scenes I may alter somewhat as this series progresses—although we know Arthur claims Merlin is the worst manservant he has ever had, I like to think that as Merlin grows to care for him, eventually progressing to the bond we see in Season 4 (_yes_, that's my favorite season!) and in Episode 5x13, his performance as a manservant improves, too (still keeping to that trademark Merlin flare, though). Additionally, for all I love Season 4, I really think the producers could have done so much more with Episode 4x13 and all that follows after, so that, too, will be reflected in this series. Please enjoy!

_**Reviewers:**_ All _22 _of you, thank you!

_**Rating:**_ T

_**Summary:**_You can determine the measure of a man by observing how he treats his lessers, except that, to Arthur, Merlin has (almost) never been his lesser, and Merlin himself (almost) never saw them as anything other than equals. As their destinies steadily intertwine, both young men realize it is more than just fate that ties them together…(Friendshipfic and Bromance. Multi-Chapter.)

"_**Speech"**_

_**Personal Thoughts/Memories (Italics)**_

_.:A Man's Measure:._

_By Sentimental Star_

**III: Evolution**

Arthur's tendency to defy his father (at least if it concerned Merlin or his people) had developed deep roots by the time Lady Catrina arrived in Camelot.

(And really, the first seeds had been sown all those months ago when Merlin drank from the poisoned chalice and Uther denied his son the ability to pursue the cure. More than once since then, Arthur had silently thanked Morgana for giving him the push that he had needed.)

He had come to see—painfully—that his father was not, in fact, always right. That when it came to defending the kingdom and his throne, innocents would as often become fodder as those Uther deemed guilty, or those responsible for the crisis in the first place.

Arthur often wished Merlin did not tend to be the innocent in the equation.

"You need to get out of here! The king has ordered me to arrest you."

"_What_?"

Merlin could not have looked more incredulous had he tried. Arthur both loathed and appreciated how expressive his manservant tended to be—on one hand, he could never hide anything (at least, Arthur liked to think so), but on the other, when something like this happened, it felt far too much like kicking a puppy.

"Catrina has _accused_ you of taking her seal."

The look of abject shock on Merlin's face at that pronouncement vindicated Arthur's belief that Merlin could not possibly have had anything to do with said seal's disappearance, even if he did only catch it in passing.

(Frankly, he thought Merlin too idiotically genuine to lie outright about _anything_, let alone this.)

"But I _didn't_!"

Arthur shoved open the servant's door, in his haste not even truly registering Merlin's protest. "I do not want to know," the hallway remained clear (despite the fact that he knew the guards would do their rounds soon); he spun around and yanked the sheet from a completely startled Merlin's hands, "and right now you do not have time to tell me," he shoved Merlin forward, towards the door. "If you value your life, you will leave Camelot _right now_."

Merlin fought every step of the way, "But…she…_Arthur_," his manservant spun around to face him, full of defiance, "She. Is. A. _Troll_! She's trying to set me up!"

Arthur blew out a frustrated breath, "We've been through this-!" Seriously, did Merlin _not_ understand that he wanted him _gone_, so his father did not catch him? So _Arthur_ did not find himself _forced_ to catch him?

"I am _telling the truth-_"

Apparently not. However, before Arthur could come up with a suitably scathing retort, Merlin (_of course_) interrupted him, "I saw her…!"

Gods, Arthur wanted to believe him—part of him _did_ believe his manservant (Merlin could not lie to save his life, after all)—but did he not understand that—

Loud, booming knocks immediately and effectively derailed any type of coherent thought.

Springing forward, instincts driven by nerves and tension, Arthur shoved Merlin hard, "I don't care. You need to _leave_, Merlin!"

The knocks came again, accompanied by muffled voices, "_Sire_-!"

Nerves and tension took a swift dive into full-frontal panic. Arthur practically manhandled Merlin over to the door, "Go."

Merlin hesitated, did not move, and Arthur saw the stubborn refusal beginning to set into his manservant's blue eyes and jaw.

When the knocks came again, each more insistent than the last, Arthur decided they did not have any sort of time for a tetê-á-tetê. He _threw_ Merlin at the servant's door, "_GO_!"

Arthur chose not to wonder why his heart felt as though it were sheering in two when Merlin finally, _finally_ fled through the door and out into the corridor beyond. A choking swallow rendered him even more horrified (and more than a little mortified) as the door slammed shut behind the manservant Arthur had not realized he considered quite so important.

IOIOIOIOIOI

The tearing sensation never really disappeared, not even in the presence of Guinevere.

He supposed that should have told him something, but his experience _missing_ people had, until now, been limited to his mother.

Perhaps, then, he could be excused if he did not understand at first why he wandered around a castle that seemed like it had only half the brightness, half the joy, half the security still in its possession.

As the days dragged on, as Catrina became more and more demanding, and as his father swayed more and more under her influence, Arthur (alarmingly) found himself having what he believed were nothing short of delusions: he would wake in the mornings, a witty retort on the tip of his tongue, only to find himself shouting at an empty room. He would turn a corner, and catch a glimpse of midnight hair. He would sit at dinner and glance up, believing he had heard a familiar tread or seen a glitter of blue eyes laughing at him.

He could never actually locate them.

Eventually, it started to scare him: why did one person, one _manservant_ matter so much?

Soon it grew so pervasive that one evening, not long after Merlin had fled Camelot, he ended up in front of Gaius's quarters. Convinced something had to be wrong with him, Arthur determined the wisest course of action would be to seek Gaius's counsel. Or at least a sleeping draught.

As had always seemed the case recently, Gaius's door had been shut, and it rattled underneath his knock.

A great deal of shuffling and screeching of wood against stone erupted behind the oaken door, accompanied only moments later by a half-stifled shout and muttered curse.

Arthur felt the corner of his mouth give the barest twitch upwards. Wonderful, reliable Gaius…it sounded as though he had tripped over something.

At last, the door creaked open and a blue-green eye peeked through the crack before a startled Gaius opened it all the way, "Your Majesty….?"

Arthur preferred to ignore the rapid sharpening of his physician's glance as the older man took note of his bowed shoulders and exhausted countenance, "I need your help, Gaius," he finally murmured.

He had barely finished his sentence before he abruptly found himself bustled inside, "Undoubtedly," Gaius remarked, ushering him to a seat. "What can I do for you, Sire?"

Worn thin, registering only the absence of the second lively presence in these chambers and not much else, Arthur collapsed into the chair where he had been directed.

Gaius's bushy eyebrow, already raised inquiringly, shot to his venerable hairline. Without a word more, he shuffled over to his herbs and began mixing.

Arthur found the steady motion of the old physician's deft hands soothing, and watched quietly as he put together several ingredients recognizable as a mild sleeping draught, letting his thoughts drift.

"…Did my mother ever have a lady hawk?"

The prince could only tell his question had startled Gaius by the brief stutter in the physician's stirring.

"She did. Why do you ask?"

Arthur frowned. Surely Gaius knew, as he did, that "lady hawk" was simply another name for the falcon called a merlin?

Cautiously, the Crown Prince shrugged, "I have no real reason, Gaius. I had wondered—Lady Monmouth has one. And I had wondered if—perhaps—she might have…let it go?"

Surreptitiously, he studied Gaius's reaction to the question. The old physician's shoulders tightened, "If she did?"

Arthur allowed the tiniest smile to touch his lips, "Then I would ask if you thought I might see him—_it_," amended quickly, "again."

Gaius's head jumped up and he blinked at Arthur in the closest approximation of shock the Crown Prince had ever seen him wear. "I…would hope so, Your Highness."

The young man nodded vaguely, not really processing much else aside from the older man's voice, "I wonder, you know. I wonder if she ever thought she saw its wings, or its eyes, and turned around only to remember it was no longer there. I wonder if it hurt when she remembered, if it hurt as much as I…" Arthur trailed off, shaking his head and blinking his eyes rapidly to alleviate the heat he felt building up behind them.

He nearly jumped clear out of his skin when a warm, wrinkled hand, smelling vaguely of chamomile, cupped his cheek.

Stunned, he stared up at his physician, who—after all—had always taken good care of him since he had been quite small, "_Gaius_!"

The older man remained stubbornly unaffected, "I am sure she did, Your Majesty, and I am sure it does."

Arthur swallowed another protest, hesitated a moment, and then reached up to cover Gaius's hand.

A sad smile touched the physician's lips. The prince knew why—he had not returned such a gesture in years.

"You need to sleep, Sire. Please take this and return to your chambers early tonight."

Swallowing again, Arthur nodded and accepted the tiny flask Gaius handed him. Only when he had entered his own chambers and crawled into bed after undressing, did Arthur remember that as he had left the physician's quarters, said physician had glanced up the steps to Merlin's room.

IOIOIOIOIOI

Perhaps because the remembrance of his discussion with Gaius remained so strong, Arthur found it easier to trust that Merlin would deliver the antidote to him on time once it became apparent that, in fact, Catrina _was _a troll and, in fact, Uther _was_ enchanted.

(He preferred not to recall his father's callous dismissal of him, nor how much it _ached_ when he had been disinherited and Merlin wasn't there to soothe it. Guinevere, though…He preferred, instead, to remember how embarrassingly relieved and pleased Merlin's sudden return had made him.)

Furthermore, once the antidote had successfully been administered, and regicide successfully averted, it took little thought at all to immediately move towards a very obviously shaken Merlin.

As he neared, though, Arthur's eyebrows quirked up, puzzled by the shimmer on his manservant's cheeks.

"Merlin?"

The younger boy made a sound that Arthur _thought_ might have been chuckle, but came out so strangled and choked that at first he feared (yes, _feared_, he could admit to that now) Merlin had taken an as yet unnoticed injury.

"Are you all right?"

This time his manservant muffled the sound behind his hands. Affected in ways he was not yet comfortable with, Arthur frowned fiercely and reached up a hand, not sure where he intended to aim it, but knowing he _needed_ the solidness of touch as a reassurance (he rather thought both of them did).

Merlin did not seem to notice, and gave another of those painfully strangled sounds behind his palms.

"You'll forgive me, Sire, but we _aren't_ doing this again."

Although Arthur's thumb smoothed over Merlin's damp cheek and said manservant leaned unabashedly into the touch, both boys' breathless laughs came out just on the calm side of hysterical.

"As it was not my idea in the first place, _Mer_lin, I am completely willing to agree with you."

Arthur crowed inwardly when Merlin finally emitted a weak chuckle, "Arrogant prat."

_End Evolution_


	4. Protecting a Lady Hawk (Part 1)

_**Disclaimer:**_ I own nothing in this marvelous universe.

_**Author's Note:**_ First two-shot is up to bat! I thought it best to separate out this particular vignette as its two parts take place two days apart. Episode 2x07 _The Witchfinder _had so much potential, I wanted to do it justice. I promise I will have the second chapter up soon—for now, though, please enjoy!

_**Reviewers:**_ All _30_ of you, thank you!

_**Summary:**_ Merlin was certainly no wilting flower, but even lady hawks need protection now and then. Arthur just happened to be in a position to give it...

_**Rating:**_ T

"_**Speech"**_

_**Personal Thoughts/Memories (Italics)**_

_.:A Man's Measure:._

_By Sentimental Star_

**IV: Protecting a Lady Hawk (Part 1)**

As a general rule, royalty and nobility alike cared little for servants and commoners in a capacity as anything other than one who serves. Until Merlin had intervened with Arthur's life, Camelot's Crown Prince believed much the same.

(He could not say with certainty that he was _grateful_ to be proven wrong; certainly not to his manservant. As always, though, there was just _something_ about Merlin, and he had not returned to that way of thinking since.)

After acknowledging as much, to promise Gaius his protection for Merlin was among the easiest and most natural vows he had ever made. Especially when Gaius himself was incapable of providing it.

(It certainly had nothing to do with the fact that Arthur _wanted_ to do it):

_In later years, Arthur rather suspected he might shake his head over the scene currently playing out in front of him—and his inability to absolve it._

_As Merlin once more tearfully embraced Gaius (really, his manservant could be such a __**girl**__), Arthur shifted uncomfortably from foot to foot, actively not-listening to their conversation and uneasily eyeing the archway behind him._

_Reluctantly, he cleared his throat, "Merlin…" he began, cognizant of the restless shifting of the guards nearby, and received a ferocious glare for all his trouble._

_Rolling his eyes, Arthur warned, "_Mer_lin."_

_And winced, as Merlin's expression crumpled. The younger man turned back to their mentor, "__**Gaius**__," his manservant's voice choked on the plea._

_Arthur grimaced impatiently, and immediately felt wretched for it, but they really did need to leave. Under no circumstances did Arthur want to expose Merlin to Aredian when he was __**this**__ vulnerable, and both Aredian and his father would surely be here soon._

_Gaius must have seen his expression, because he smiled sadly and bent to whisper something in Merlin's ear, before firmly stepping back and releasing him with a gentle push in Arthur's direction._

_Arthur took that as his cue to step forward and pull Merlin away from the elderly physician._

_He tried not to be hurt when Merlin roughly shrugged off his hands and all but fled the dungeon._

_Cursing under his breath and __**praying**__ Aredian was well away from here, Arthur hurriedly slammed the cell door shut and locked it._

_He had just turned to bolt after Merlin when a familiarly wrinkled hand reached through the bars and gently grabbed his elbow, "Take care of him, Arthur."_

_Arthur suddenly had trouble focusing on Gaius's face. He dropped his eyes to the physician's hand instead and swallowed thickly, trying to ignore how all the colors around him blurred together. He wet his lips, "You never had to ask," whispered. Blinking his surroundings back into focus, he looked up and locked his gaze fiercely with the dear, tired blue-green eyes watching him intently, "Really, you never did. You could have asked anything of me, Gaius, anything at all, and I would have answered the same. I…I don't know how to stop Aredian, but I….maybe I can talk to my father…"_

_Gaius's smile turned mostly humorless, "You and I both know your father is intolerant of magic in all its forms, Your Highness."_

_Squeezing his eyes shut, Arthur nodded heavily._

_Gaius's hand tightened, his hold comforting, "I am an old man, Arthur. I have lived my life as best as I can, and I can now say that it had some meaning. Do not hurt your right to the crown by attempting to help me."_

"_Gaius…" Arthur's throat closed. Even with his beloved mentor, Arthur could not ask, __**What about Merlin?**_

_Gaius knew what he intended to say regardless. A true smile touched the elderly physician's lips, "Happily, he has you. You will find, Arthur, that there is very little he __**won't**__ do for you."_

Arthur had not been able to refute Gaius. He knew it all too well. In the end, he had only been able to nod and (_not_) rush after Merlin.

At least, he intended to (not) rush after Merlin, but his manservant had since fled the-gods-knew-where.

"It would be just my luck if the fool somehow got himself accused again," Arthur muttered, determinedly _not_ contemplating what that might mean for his rather (at the moment) fragile nerves.

The memory of Merlin's absence during the whole Catrina diabolical was never far from his heart, after all. Arthur could readily admit (even if only to himself) that he would be unable to withstand a second absence like that again.

(And when had _Merlin_ become almost as important as his own father?)

Perhaps because his thoughts revolved around Merlin to a worrying degree, it should not have startled him as much as it did when he discovered his feet (without his blessing) had taken him to said manservant's (and their mentor's) chambers.

Only, they did not look much like chambers anymore. They looked like a debris field after battle: potion bottles shattered on flagstones, books with their pages ripped out and scattered across the floor, tables overturned and their contents tossed to the ground, and in the midst of it all—oh, gods, was his heart supposed to _hurt_ this much?—in the midst of it all, on his knees, was his missing manservant.

Arthur barely recognized his voice as his own as he choked out, "Mer…_Merlin_!"

The prince had barely processed his legs' movement before he abruptly found himself kneeling knee to knee with the younger man.

For once, he did not try to control the fierce protective instinct that rose in his gut, reaching out with one hand to gently cup the back of Merlin's skull.

Merlin, who had been gazing vacantly out over the shambles of the life he and Gaius had built, immediately snapped his attention to the pained countenance of his prince: "I am so sorry, Merlin," Arthur murmured achingly. "I am so, so sorry."

Gods above and below, but Merlin had to be the strongest man he'd ever met (not that he would _ever_ admit that to the man in question), as from the depths of his soul, said manservant summoned forth a shaky smile, "I must have hit my head on the way in, because there is _no_ other explanation for why Arthur Pendragon just _apologized_ to little ol' me."

It would have earned Merlin a ferocious scowl, had his composure not betrayed him: the smile wavered, cracked, and a lonely flush of tears wended their way down his cheek.

Almost straightaway, Arthur grabbed the sleeve of his free hand and brusquely scrubbed it across Merlin's wet face, "Commit it to memory," he muttered gruffly, "because you will not be hearing it again."

(Actually, he probably would, but Arthur, despite what he liked to claim, was no omniscient.)

Gently bracing his thumbs against Merlin's damp cheeks, Camelot's Crown Prince seriously met his manservant's eyes, "I'll talk to my father, Merlin. I…can't promise it will work—in fact, it probably won't—but…" Arthur took a deep breath, "Gaius deserves better than this. I…I have to try, but I don't-"

Shaking his head, Merlin bowed it and shut his eyes, reaching up to tightly grip Arthur's hands. For a moment, the prince feared he would rip them away, but the moment passed and Arthur found their fingers had actually interwoven in place against Merlin's cheeks.

As long as he lived, Arthur would never admit that he cried a little, too, that day.

_End Protecting a Lady Hawk (CH.1)_


	5. Protecting a Lady Hawk (Part 2)

_**Disclaimer: **_ I own nothing in this marvelous universe.

_**Author's Note:**_ As promised, here is the second part of this particular installment. I had thoughts of expanding it beyond what you see below, and decided to make that particular expansion my next one-shot. For now, I hope you enjoy this little bit of insight into my Arthur's character!

_**Reviewers:**_ All _34_ of you, thank you!

_**Summary:**_ You can determine the measure of a man by observing how he treats his lessers, except that, to Arthur, Merlin has (almost) never been his lesser, and Merlin himself (almost) never saw them as anything other than equals. As their destinies steadily intertwine, both young men realize it is more than just fate that ties them together…(Friendshipfic and Bromance. Multi-Chapter.)

_**Rating:**_ T

"_**Speech"**_

_**Personal Thoughts/Memories (Italics)**_

_.:A Man's Measure:._

_By Sentimental Star_

**IV: Protecting a Lady Hawk (Part 2)**

Two mornings after Aredian's timely fall from the tower of the keep, Arthur (_as usual_) found himself awoken by a cheery, "Rise and shine, Your Highness!" and an irritatingly bright slant of sunlight beaming directly into his eyes.

"_Mer_lin," he groaned, still more than half-asleep and batting vaguely at the hovering face of his (utterly infuriating) manservant.

Laughing, Merlin danced out of reach, far too gracefully for someone who was supposed to be inherently clumsy, "Come on, Your Majesty, up and out of bed. You have training with your knights this morning, remember? You _know_ you don't like being late for that-"

"_You_ are the one who is never time, Merlin," Arthur grumbled irritably, nonetheless shoving his linens back with a half-hearted groan (actually, Merlin _had_ been unnervingly punctual these last few days, but Arthur had no intention of drawing his attention to it.) "How are you so bloody _chirper_ in the mornings?"

Merlin grinned, "Talent, Your Majesty."

Hauling himself upright, Arthur peeled open an eye to glower balefully at his manservant, "Stop that."

Merlin paused where he flitted around Arthur's wardrobe, brow creased in confusion, "Stop what, Your Majesty?"

"_That_," Arthur stated emphatically, jabbing his finger at Merlin.

Sorely puzzled, Merlin frowned and opened his mouth to respond, but Arthur shook his head, "_That_…'Your Majesty,' 'Your Highness.' You haven't called me that in _months_, Merlin, why would you start now? It makes me feel I've done something _wrong_…"

Merlin smirked and opened his mouth; Arthur interrupted him, "Don't you _dare_ respond to that, _Mer_lin!"

Laughing, Merlin retorted, "Certainly, _Sire_."

He ducked the pillow that came sailing at his head, "Shut _up_, you idiot!"

Smiling widely, Merlin bent to pick it up from the floor, "It will be as you say, _My Prince_."

Arthur just smothered his groan in the rest of the pillows scattered across his bed.

(In the privacy of his own, half-muddled thoughts, however, he did acknowledge that he did not actually _mind_ that last address.)

Merlin's hand on his shoulder hauled him back upright, "Come on, Arthur, you really _do_ need to get up."

Sighing, Camelot's young Crown Prince reluctantly conceded Merlin's point and allowed his manservant to drag him to his feet. "Are you supposed to be here today, Merlin?" he muttered, brow scrunching in confusion as something niggled at the back of his mind and he found himself towed towards his wardrobe.

Merlin stilled against his side and a glance to the right confirmed the rather rosy-cheeked countenance of the younger man, "Of course, Arthur," he murmured, not meeting the prince's eyes, "why wouldn't I be?" He smirked and lifted his head, quirking an eyebrow at the other man, "You might be delusional, you know. Shall I fetch you a potion?"

Arthur admitted it was a good cover up, but at this point, he knew his manservant far too well to fall for it, "You do know the penalty for _lying_ to your prince, don't you?"

Merlin shifted, not quite able to mask the guilty expression that flitted across his face.

Arthur snorted and wordlessly touched Merlin's hand, causing his manservant to start, apparently surprised his hand had remained on Arthur's arm.

Shaking his head, the older man turned back to his wardrobe once Merlin released him, rubbing the last sleep from his eyes, "Well since you _are_ here," he yawned, "where's my breakfast?"

Merlin's smile returned as his manservant took a step back and rolled his eyes, "I'll fetch it now, _Sire_."

"_Mer_lin!"

Merlin's laughter followed him out into the corridor. Moments later, Arthur realized he had not, in fact, actually looked away from the door, and wore, in fact, a rather ridiculously pleased grin.

Promptly, he flushed, and firmly yanked his attention back to his wardrobe, choosing, instead, to focus on why he could not shake the sense that Merlin really should not have been the one to wake him.

(He also determinedly did not contemplate the reason _why_ he was so ridiculously pleased his manservant had.)

IOIOIOIOIOI

It took Arthur the better part of breakfast to correctly conclude why: "_You're_ supposed to have the day off!" blurted, just as he finished off the last rasher of bacon (and promptly choked on it).

Merlin stiffened where he had begun smoothing down the covers of Arthur's bed. Arthur, busy coughing, nonetheless noticed it.

Grabbing his water goblet, the prince quickly chased it down with a deep gulp of the cool liquid and allowed his coughing to subside before attempting to talk again, "_You_ are the one always demanding a day off, why are you here?"

Merlin shrugged, keeping his gaze carefully fastened on Arthur's blanket, "I remembered halfway to your chambers and thought I ought to continue the rest of the way."

Arthur frowned. That seemed true enough, but…"How's Gaius? Surely you do not expect me to believe you would leave him on his own just to attend to me."

Merlin seemed uncertain about whether he should smile or frown, but at least he had lifted his head, "Ill. Exhausted. In pain-"

Arthur felt his stomach clench and hoped he it did not show on his face, "I am sorry, Merlin. I did not realize he was that bad off. If only I had-"

Merlin's hand suddenly clamped gently over Arthur's mouth. The only indication that betrayed Arthur's startlement was the double-blink of his eyes.

Merlin smirked, "You didn't let me finish, you prat. I was _going_ to say he's also flung multiple damp cloths at my head over the course of the past hour and threatened to have me clean out his leech tank on no less than five separate occasions if I asked _one more time_ whether he needed anything. I'd say he's on the mend."

Relieved, Arthur chuckled as Merlin's hand slid away.

He almost did not notice its downward motion slow until it hovered hesitantly—almost shyly—over Arthur's heart.

Automatically reaching up to clasp it, Arthur pulled it back down to Merlin's side, releasing it after a half-second's pause. "Merlin?" he asked, warily eyeing his manservant's set jaw and serious eyes.

"Arthur-" his name was a sudden, rushed burst of breath.

-Which became interrupted once a solid, loud knock sounded on Arthur's chamber door. "Sire," Leon's voice filtered to them through the wood, "your father has requested your presence in the throne room. He says it is urgent, Sire."

"Everything is urgent to my father," muttered under his breath, not-quite-accidentally-audible to Merlin.

Merlin smothered his own laugh, as whatever serious light had shone momentarily in his eyes swiftly receded, "Duty calls, Sire. Aren't you glad I woke you early? You were even able to eat breakfast!"

Arthur scowled, opening his mouth to tell Merlin _exactly _what he thought of his early awakening, when the actual use of "early" processed. Frowning slightly, he asked, "How early? What time is it, Merlin?"

A throat cleared softly behind them. Both boys spun around to face the entrance and a rather amused Leon who stood in the threshold, "Just past seven by the sun's shadow, Your Majesty."

All at once, too many things made sense. Arthur eyed his manservant disbelievingly, "Since when have you bothered to memorize my _schedule_, Merlin?"

Merlin flushed, and shrugged, trying to cover it up with a smirk, "With all due respect, Sire, _a while_."

Arthur's frown deepened, and he would have demanded clarification of just what 'a while' entailed, had not Merlin abruptly dropped into a (far too graceful) bow, "If you'll excuse me, _My Prince_…"

"_Mer_lin!"

Merlin bit the inside of his cheek, not quite able to conceal the laughter sparkling in his eyes, and quickly ducked out into the corridor with a slightly more shallow bow to Leon.

Arthur found himself in the rather irritating position of being caught between delighted laughter of his own and utter annoyance. _Why_, again, did his father think Merlin the ideal candidate for Arthur's manservant?

"Because he saved your life, I believe, Your Majesty," Leon's voice made his smile apparent, "and after all this time, you won't suffer anyone else in that position."

Arthur's cheeks stung, "My apologies, Leon, I did not realize I said that aloud."

His father's head knight smiled slightly, gesturing for the prince to precede him out the door. Once he did, Leon followed Arthur, "It is of no matter, Sire." The smile grew a bit, "If you'll forgive my saying so, it is even _less_ of a matter when you consider I know exactly who gave the knights their orders to clean and repair the physician's rooms yesterday."

Arthur had little hope of concealing the color that flushed his cheeks now, "Father knows, doesn't he? That's why…"

Leon coughed politely to cover up his laugh, "I believe so, Your Highness, as Gaius is with him now."

Rubbing embarrassedly at the back of his neck, Arthur fell back to join Leon as they continued to walk down the corridors, "I suppose it was too much to hope he wouldn't. And—_wait_," he stopped dead in center of the hallway, "if Gaius knows about it…"

Leon, who thus far had done an admirable job of containing his laughter, now could not prevent a small chuckle from escaping, "Yes, Your Majesty, Merlin knows about it, too. He thanked me once we did all we could without Gaius's guidance."

Arthur groaned, "I am going to assume you explained _why_ to him, then."

Leon's smile became a bit more understanding, "In fact, I did not, Your Highness, as per your request. I believe he may have figured it out on his own."

"So this morning-"

A truly fond grin touched Leon's lips, "I believe he meant to thank you, Your Majesty."

Arthur scrubbed his burning face, "I am never going to hear the end of this, am I?"

Leon really _did_ laugh this time, "I am afraid not, Sire. Merlin knows your heart far too well."

_End Protecting a Lady Hawk (Part 2)_


End file.
